So Cold
by AnRevival
Summary: When CM Punk is forced to team up with Chris Jericho, everything changes. CM Punk/Chris Jericho Miner Slash.
1. Chapter 1

So Cold.

Chapter 1.

It was the Monday night before Money in the Bank, and Punk was in no mood for Vickie Guerrero. He couldn't believe that the board made her the permanent General Manager of both Raw and Smack down. He sighed with annoyance when he spotted her walking over to him.

"Well, if it isn't the voice of the annoying, Vickie Guerrero." He crossed his arms over his chest and reluctantly turned to fully face her.

"You might want to be a bit nicer. I am the general manager now," Vickie pointed out with a smug look on her face.

"No, I don't think I want to."

"Excuse me!"

"Excuse yourself!" he replied with a laugh, "Nobody here wants to here your annoying mouth, so do us all a favor, and shut up!"

"You should be careful, Punk. I am not John Laurinaitus. I won't let it go if you push me."

"What you gonna do? Fire me?" His smirk didn't leave and he even stepped a bit closer to her. "I am still WWE champion, Vickie."

"I can make it to where you aren't," she retorted.

He laughed at that. "You think so? You know, your predecessor tried how many times was it?" He scratched his chin in thought. His smile grew wider when she didn't reply. He could tell that he was getting underneath her skin.

"She won't have to take it away." Punk stiffened at the familiar voice and turned a glare on Chris Jericho as he walked over. "I'll do that for you."

"Right. Just like you did at Wrestlemania? Or Extreme Rules?"

"I'll do it when I win the Money in the Bank Match, come Sunday."

"Right. Sure you will. You know, you keep saying that but how many pay per view matches have you won since you came back? Hm?"

"I'm the one who invented the Money in the Bank latter match, Punk."

"And won exactly zero," Punk countered. He and Chris had fully turned to face each other and seemed to have forgotten that Vickie was there.

"I'll win this one, you just watch me."

"No, I think I'll be backstage watching you fall on your ass...again."

"You think you're so funny?" Jericho countered. "While you make jokes, I'm going to win the money in the bank match, and take your title."

"You just keep saying the same things over and over. You do know they're just words if you never back them up, right."

"Enough!" They both turned to face an annoyed Vickie, with her hands on her hips.

"I think Queen Diva is getting mad," Punk said with a smile on his face.

"You will respect me!" She yelled.

Chris drew away from her. "I think my eardrums nearly burst."

"One of mine already has, and I think it's going to burst again"

"Funny. Well, how's this for funny? You two in a match tonight."

"Oh, thanks." Punk replied, "That's a great idea, see you out there, Chris."

"Oh, no." Vickie stopped him before he could leave. "This isn't a one on one. This is a tag team match. You two versus two of my picks."

"Well, that sounds good and all, but I'm not teaming up with Cm Drunk-

"And, I'm not teaming up with Bon Jovi over here, either."

"Oh, yes you are." She glared at them. "And if you two decide you'd rather fight each other or walk out during the match? Well, you," she pointed to Jericho, "will lose your spot in Money in the Bank and you," she pointed to Punk, "will lose your title. Understand?" She smiled at them both before turning on her heel and walking away.

"To who, Daniel Brian?" Punk asked before walking away himself.

Xxxxxx

Punk sighed before putting his face in his hands. Here, he was being forced to team up with the very man who went after his family, who poured alcohol on him not once, but twice, the man who wanted to break him.

He had AJ and Bryan both going after him, Vickie as the new general manager. Standing, he paced the locker room a bit. He'd always said that he thrived under pressure.

He just hoped his hatred for Jericho wouldn't cost him his title. If he was going to lose the title, which he knew he wouldn't, but if he was going to lose it, he wanted to lose it with a fight. Not because of his anger getting the best of he'd mastered his anger at Wrestlemania. And it was just one match. That was it.

Punk was waiting for his music to queue up when he spotted Jericho walking towards him. "One match," he said under his breath, "One match." He rolled his wrists, trying to ignore Chris's presence, at least for the moment.

"Good luck, Gentleman." They both turned around to see Vickie with an evil smile on her face.

"Luck's for losers," Punk replied. He said nothing else as the lights in the arena finally went out and Jericho's music hit. A minute later, his music began to play, and he made his way out to the ring.

Once he was in the ring, he stood beside Chris while they waited for whoever it was that Vickie had picked for them to face.

"Excuse me!" bellowed through the arena, and that only meant one thing, Vickie was about to speak. She appeared on the stage, with a huge smile on her face. "Chris Jericho, Cm Punk, You're opponents are Primo & Epico! Good luck, and remember what I said!"

Punk sighed as Epico and Primo's music hit. "Let's get this over with," he said. He turned a glare on Jericho. "I don't suppose you want to start, do you?"

"Nope, you first."

"Of course." Punk turned to face Primo as Jericho ducked under the rope.

The match was pretty fast paced. Punk was in the ring for most of it but at least Jericho wasn't being detrimental to him. Then, surprisingly, Jericho took the tag when he reluctantly called for it. It wasn't until Jericho was taken out that he got back in. To his further surprise, Jericho managed to take out Epico before he was, leaving Punk against Primo. Punk had been competing at a much higher level than Primo for years, long enough that the man wasn't much of a match for him and he hit his finisher quickly and picked up the win. Punk stood in the ring for a moment, alone.

He was glad he was once again able to control his anger and get through the match without losing it. Now, he could give his full attention on his match at Money in the Bank.

"Excuse me!" The familiar screech rang out through the arena, cutting off Punk's music. Punk groaned as he turned to see Vickie standing at the top of the ramp. "Congratulations on winning your match-

"I said Excuse me!" she yelled again as the crowd jeered.

Punk chuckled when the crowd booed louder. He kept Jericho in sight out of the corner of his eye. Chris was standing outside the ring, looking about as annoyed as he felt at Vickie's interruption.

"As I was saying, I might have forgotten to tell you guys a little detail about this match."

Punk clenched his fists in anger.

"You see, Primo and Epico have been asking me for a shot at the tag team titles so I told them that I would put them in a number one contendership match...tonight."

Punk's eyes narrowed as those words sunk in.

"And well, sadly they didn't win. But you did," she said with a laugh. "So, I say, the Monday after Money in the Bank, you two will face the current tag team champions for their championships." She paused, looking pleased with herself. "Oh, and those stipulations we discussed before? They still apply."

Punks face turned a bright red as he bit his lip in anger, and to his surprise, Chris was fuming outside the ring. They glared at each other for a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

As he stood on the top rope, hands in the air and the title above his head, CM Punk felt pride running through his veins. He just had one of the most intense matches against Daniel Bryan. He was both relieved and surprised about AJ. She hadn't screwed him over. He was still champion. A wide smile formed on his lips as he headed backstage, title in hand.

He'd just made it through the curtain when he heard clapping and turned with a groan to face Jericho. "What the hell do you want?"

"Just wanted to congratulate you on your win out there. Now, all I have to do is win money in the bank, we lose this stupid tag team match tomorrow, and I cash in and take that from you."

Punk snorted and turned to leave. "Good luck with that."

"I don't need luck, I'm going to win." He replied, "See you tomorrow, tag team partner."

Punk only shook his head and walked away.

Punk made it into his locker room without running into anyone else, thankfully. He grabbed his bag and bent to pull some clothes out. Unfortunately, he hadn't closed the door and he almost jumped when someone said something behind him.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

Punk turned, a frown automatically forming on his face. "What do you want?" He asked with a groan.

"To congratulate you on your win out there."

Punk's eyes narrowed, however, at the now familiar look in John's. "Right and that's the only reason you're here?" He asked skeptically.

John lowered his head, "I still care about you…"

Punk shook his head. "You're kidding me, right?" He'd heard that before and he'd shut John down then. 

"Why won't you believe me?"

Punk laughed and sat down to pull of his boots. "Come on, Cena. The first time you approached me was after I'd called you an ass kisser and made fun of you in front of a crowd."

"You were angry, you didn't mean that."

"You are beginning to sound a bit delusional. You seriously believe that?"

"Yeah, I do." He replied, "I love you."

Punk let out a frustrated breath. "Are you a masochist, Cena? Look, get out. And don't come back. We've already had this conversation too many times."

Sighing deeply, John turned and walked away. Punk watched him go. The recent drama with Jericho and AJ before that, he'd almost forgotten about Cena. He still didn't quite understand how Cena had gotten so obsessed with him since Punk had still been in Nexus.

But he guessed now he had even more stock in the Money in the Bank match which was supposed to start soon. He grabbed the clothes he'd pulled out before and headed in to take a quick shower before it started.

Punk sat down next to Kofi when he got in to watch the rest of the show. Money in the Bank was, of course, the last match scheduled. He scoffed a bit when Miz came out first. He couldn't believe the Miz was able to put himself in the match when he had been gone for months. And he hadn't exactly been on any sort of winning streak before he'd left. Then again, maybe it would be better if Miz won the thing. At this point, he was only rooting against Cena and Jericho, who made their way out as well as Big Show and Kane. He let out a sigh as the bell rung.

Unsurprisingly, Show did dominate early but his lips twitched at the smart tactics when all four of the other guys went after him.

He rolled his eyes a few seconds later when Lawler and Booker started freaking out when Cena got Show up on his shoulders and threw him through the announce table. It wasn't as if Cena hadn't done that before. They literally buried Big Show and after that, it was the free for all most matches involving more than two people were. There were several near misses. Several spots that had him thinking that the match wasn't nearly as bad as what he had thought it was going to be.

He almost laughed when Show brought out a ladder that looked like it was made specifically for him. But it wasn't long after that that Punk was groaning at the outcome. Cena had actually pulled the thing down by accident. He'd broken it off the handle of the case while hitting Show over the head with it.

Punk couldn't believe it. He would have rather faced Miz, Kane, or hell, even big show. John was sure to be an even bigger problem now. They hadn't been opposite each other in the ring in a long while and that had been when John was at his worst. It had seemed that no matter how much of an asshole Punk had gotten towards him, it hadn't mattered. Then again, it was probably better than Jericho winning. As annoying as John could get, he was pretty sure he might kill Jericho if he had to go through another feud with the man.

He just had to get through this tag team match Monday night, and then he wouldn't have to worry about Jericho again. Then all he'd have to worry about was John. He wondered briefly if John would allow himself to cash in his contract the way that everyone else had. Punk doubted it. John wouldn't do something so...underhanded in front of cameras.

He sighed as he packed his stuff and headed out of his locker room. Maybe he could actually catch a couple of hours of sleep.

"Hey, champ."

Punk turned around to see John walking towards him. Dammit. He'd almost made it to the parking lot. "Here to cash in already?"

"Oh, no. Don't worry, Punk, I'm going to do this right...and everyone will be watching."

"Kind of figured you wouldn't tarnish your good guy image. Let me guess, you're going to announce exactly when and where you're going to cash the contract in." He didn't form it as a question. He knew John too well.

"Yeah, that's plan B. But, I have a plan A as well."

"What's that?" Punk asked, keeping his tone bored. He raised an eyebrow when John attempted to invade his personal space. Instead of stepping back, Punk slammed the flat of his hand against John's chest and forcefully pushed him back.

"I can purposely lose the title, if you give me one date."

Punk's eyes widened in actual surprise this time. "Wait...you're really willing to give up a title shot for that?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, I am. I love you that much…"

"You're insane," Punk stated with disdain coloring his tone.

"Maybe," John conceded. "But I know what I want." He attempted to invade Punk's personal space yet again but was interrupted by another voice.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Punk very nearly face palmed at the sound of Chris Jericho's voice. "Can't you people leave me the fuck alone?"

"I guess not, so Cena you can leave." Jericho said, "We need to figure out how we're going to lose the tag team match tomorrow-

"The stipulations don't matter anymore, you know." Punk shot back. "Both of you leave me the hell alone."

He started to leave but John grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Wait. You have to give me a chance-"

"I don't have to do anything," Punk cut him off, jerking out of John's grip.

"Who knew you were so desperate, Cena?" Jericho asked with an amused smirk.

"Stay out of this!" John yelled.

"You're both idiots," Punk said, with a scowl. He turned to walk away again.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," Jericho said before walking away.

"Punk!" John called before he could leave. "I'm not giving up."

"You should," Punk answered, walking backwards for a second. "Because, trust me on this, Cena. I'll never agree to a date with you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Chris dropped his bag down on the bench in his locker room, a frustrated scowl on his face. He'd had a bad night and the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Punk was right. He hadn't won a damn pay-per-view match since he'd come back to WWE.

He was supposed to already be WWE champion, back at Wrestlemania, but he had failed that time, and again at Extreme Rules. He had no one else to blame, really. He should have been more focused on actually winning, instead of trying to break Punk down.

He'd underestimated Punk when he shouldn't have. A smile twitched his lips. He wouldn't do that again. He'd get another title shot. That was something he'd make sure of. He let out a frustrated sigh when he heard a knock on the locker room door.

He jerked the door open angrily, and his scowl deepened. "What do you want?" He asked, keeping his hand on the frame to keep Vickie from entering the room.

"I'm SO sorry you lost your match-

"Vickie, I don't have time for this!" He cut her off. The last thing he needed was fake sympathy from the bitch of a GM.

"You should make time, Chris."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Since Money in the bank was last night, the stipulation I made last Monday doesn't apply, so I made a new one," she said with a laugh. "So, how about this? If you can't get along, you'll never get another title shot again."

Chris' grip tightened on the door frame and his eyes narrowed. "Get the hell out of here, Vickie."

Vickie only smiled. "Good luck..." She turned then and walked away, leaving Chris alone again.

Punk was pulling on his boots, his mind on the tag match and on who he was tagging with…again. Last night should have been a cause for celebration. He'd retained his title, after all. He should have been able to celebrate that instead of worrying about what would happen during a tag match. He looked up when he spotted Kofi walking towards him.

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know that no matter what happens out there tonight, we're still going to be friends."

"This is ridiculous," Punk responded with a sigh. "Vickie seems to hate me worse than Johnny did. At least that bastard didn't put me in tag matches with Jericho."

"Yeah, I know... I'm not even sure why she hates you so much."

"I think she hates anybody who's not kissing her ass," Punk said with a smirk. He paused. "Look...these stipulations that Vickie set down...I'm sure Jericho doesn't give a damn. After all, his stipulation won't matter much. He didn't win the Money in the Bank match."

"You know, you'll be able to get another shot at the title, right? She didn't say that if you lose it, that you couldn't go after it again."

Punk scoffed. "With her as general manager? I'm sorry, Kofi. But I'm not going to throw this match on that chance."

"Was just a thought...See you out there, buddy."

Punk was pacing back and forth, waiting for his music to play when he spotted Jericho coming towards him. He stopped in his tracks and sighed. "Let's just get this over with, alright?"

"Right." There was an angry scowl on Jericho's face, however and Punk frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," Punk stated stiffly.

"Then don't ask."

Punk ground his teeth together. He really did hate Jericho. But at least Jericho's stipulation didn't matter and he doubted Jericho wanted to be one half of the tag champs with him. He remained silent until his music hit and he made it out to the ring. He stood in one corner, watching Jericho as he made his entrance as well.

Punk's mood only soured further when Truth and Kofi made their entrance. The situation was just a little bit screwed up. As soon as their music stopped and the bell rung, Jericho ducked under the ropes leaving Punk to fight R-Truth.

Punk had never been Truth's biggest fan. Most times, he only put up with the guy because he and Kofi were friends. They locked up pretty quickly and began trading blows. Punk grabbed R-Truth by the arm and whipped him into the corner, and went for the high knee, but at the last second, R-Truth moved out of the way.

Punk had been going full speed and his knee hit the turnbuckle, instead of R-Truth. Unfortunately, his momentum carried him forward and he toppled over the top rope and down to the floor. His back connected with the floor painfully and his breath left him. With Punk down, R-Truth tagged in Kofi, as Punk struggled to make it to his feet.

Holding one hand to the small of his back, he climbed back into the ring, hunching forward a little bit. He stared across the ring at Kofi, who seemed to be allowing him a bit of time to recover but this was still a match, still a competition. He had no idea that he'd gotten into the ring so close to his corner until he felt a slap on his shoulder and turned his gaze on Jericho. Punk reluctantly ducked under the ropes as Jericho charged at Kofi.

Kofi had been expecting a tackle, or maybe a clothesline but Jericho dropped down at the last second and took Kofi out at the knee. He immediately curled forward, grabbing at his knee, a pained expression on his face while Jericho smirked.

Jericho then got Kofi in the center of the ring, and applied the Figure Four Leglock. Kofi tried to get out of it, but he was trapped in the center of the wring. Punk watched, surprised, as Jericho kept the hold synched in. Jericho didn't keep the hold on long, however but he did grab Kofi's leg as soon as he got up and drove his elbow into Kofi's knee several times. Punk continued to watch, helplessly as Jericho connected with the springboard Lionsault.

Jericho went for the pin but Kofi kicked out. Still, the smirk hadn't left his face. He walked over and slapped both his hands against Punk's chest, nearly shoving him off the ring apron and tagging him back into the match.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Punk asked with a glare.

"Have fun with your friend," was the only answer he got. Punk got into the ring and walked over to where Kofi laid. He helped him up, but Kofi still had trouble standing.

"You hurt?" Punk asked with a frown.

"I'm fine." Kofi put weight on his leg then. "In the middle of a match, man."

"Guess we are." Punk put a bit of distance between them and raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question which Kofi answered by raising his arms. They locked up.

Punk hadn't been in a match against Kofi in a long time but they matched up pretty well. Plus, they'd trained together a lot since they'd started traveling together. It probably shouldn't have been such a surprise when they both went for the same move and collided with each other. Punk rolled away from Kofi, automatically wrapping his arm around his midsection. He was pretty close to the corner and he reluctantly reached up to tag in Jericho.

Punk lost touch with the match for a moment while he recovered but when he turned his attention back to it, he froze in surprise when he saw that Chris already had Truth in the Walls of Jericho. Forgetting about the stipulations, he entered the ring and pulled Jericho off of Truth.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He repeated the question he'd asked earlier.

"What does it look like?" Jericho asked with a sneer.

Punk's eyes narrowed. "What did Vickie say to you before this?"

"It doesn't matter. Now, if you're not going to help, get the hell out of the ring." He shoved Punk, hard. Hard enough that Punk hit the ropes behind him and he once again collided with Kofi, knocking him off the ring apron.

Punk straightened slowly but before he could confront Jericho about it, someone took his feet out from under him and he was pulled from the ring. When he was standing again, Kofi turned him. Before he could even open his mouth to say anything, Kofi shoved him as well, and the small and his back slammed into the ring. He fell almost immediately, but caught sight of Kofi running for him in enough time to get in position for a drop toe hold that brought Kofi to the floor face first. He rolled over and started to try and get back up and that was about the time that Jericho's music rang out through the arena.

He made it to his feet just in time to see the referee raise Jericho's hand in victory. Jericho was scowling and he jerked away from the ref. He blinked several times, willing himself to wake up from this nightmare. This is what he didn't want, to be tag team champions with the man who he hated the most, who said those things about his family. He glanced down at Kofi, who had sat up and was staring up at him, half surprised and half angry.

"I didn't want this!" Punk shouted, "This isn't my fault!"

"Punk?" He turned his gaze on the referee, who looked like he might want to back up a few steps. He was holding one of the tag belts and it only made Punk angrier. "Punk?" He turned his gaze on the referee, who looked like he might want to back up a few steps. He was holding one of the tag belts and it only made Punk angrier.

"You knocked me off the ring," Kofi said, stepping up to Punk.

"Because Jericho fucking pushed me."

"It doesn't matter!" Kofi shouted, pushing Punk.

"Don't do that," Punk said, seething. Jericho was in the ring, holding one of the tag titles, a ref was standing beside him holding the other one out to him and practically the only friend he had backstage was looking at him like Punk had betrayed him.

"You took my title!" Kofi replied, slapping punk.

Punk snapped and before he could even think about it, he'd brought one leg up and kicked Kofi in the side of the head. He watched Kofi fall before glaring at the ref once again.

"Fuck. Off." He turned then and walked backstage, ignoring the refs, and the crowd. His fists were clenched so tight that he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. He walked into his locker room, and stopped short when he saw John Cena sitting there, waiting for him.

"Leave, now."

"I just came to congratulate you," John said with a smile.

"Congratulate me," Punk repeated slowly, grinding his teeth.

"Yeah, you're one half of the new tag team champs."

"Cena..." Punk reached up and pulled at his own hair. "The only friend I have back here just accused me of betraying him, I just got stuck in a situation where I'll have to continue to tag with a man who smashed a fucking liquor bottle on my head and now you've decided you want to be a stalker. If you don't get out of here now, I'm going to kick your fucking head off."

"Alright, I'll leave," Cena replied. "But what I said earlier still applies. I'm not giving up."


	4. Chapter 4

Pressing his fingertips against his temples, elbows on his knees, eyes closed, Punk tried to ignore the chatter going on around him. He was in the Smackdown locker room. He'd already been irritated when he'd first arrived at the arena and the headache that had been steadily building behind his eyes only added to that.

He didn't want this, none of this. He didn't want to be here on Smackdown, he didn't want to be in a tag team match… well at least not with Jericho. He didn't want to face the person he considered a friend; he didn't want to be tag team champion. All he wanted was this nightmare to end.

Punk rolled his eyes at himself as he bent forward to put on his boots and kick pads. He wasn't usually given to self pity. The sound of someone clearing their throat above him brought him out of his thoughts and he looked up, a glare immediately forming on his face. Cena was smirking down at him.

"What the hell do you want?"

"To tell you good luck."

"Good luck...?" For a second, Punk started up at Cena, the expression on his face making it clear just how much of an idiot Punk thought he was. "I thought you wanted on my good side, Cena? Wishing me good luck in a match I was forced into with a man that ran my family down for weeks...either you're a complete and utter moron or you're mocking me. Either way," his glare strengthened, "you need to get out now."

"I wasn't mocking you," John said, genuinely confused and maybe even a little alarmed. "And I know you don't like Jericho but aren't you being a bit too...over the top? I can't be that bad-"

"Really not doing yourself any favors here, Cena," Punk cut in. "Didn't I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?"

Xxxx

John hadn't been able to stop the smile when he'd stopped in front of Punk. The smaller man hadn't noticed him at first and John's smile almost slipped...almost. When he cleared his throat and Punk's head shot up, John was reveling too much in the fact that Punk's total attention was on him to even register that the man was glaring at him.

When Punk went off on him a second later, John was a bit horrified that Punk seemed to think he was insulting him. How could he? He would never do such a thing.

Not Punk. John's eyes roved over him. He was already in his trunks, thighs on display. When Punk finally realized what John already knew, he'd most definitely enough gripping those thighs as he-

"Cena!" Punk's voice snapped him out of those thoughts. "Are you deaf? Go. Away."

"Sure Punk." John nodded, his smile coming back. He'd comply for now. It was only a matter of time before Punk would realize his mistake.

He wandered to a different part of the locker room but kept watch out of the corner of his eye as Punk stood, turned his back and bent, one foot on the bench, to lace up his boots. John's gaze was focused on Punk's ass. But there were other ways he could see what was under that black fabric...

Xxxx

Walking towards the curtain, Punk couldn't wait to fight, he was that pissed off. The little show with Cena was still running through his mind. The longer Punk knew him, the weirder the man got. He just refused to take no for an answer.

His music started and he stalked to the ring. He wasn't in the mood to show off, just to get this over with and leave. He entered the ring with the other three men already there.

The match deteriorated almost before it even started. Kofi was still pissed at him that much was clear and, in turn, Punk was pissed off as well, still couldn't believe the guy he'd called his best friend just a week ago could think so lowly of him. He let that rage burn. Maybe he'd misjudged Kofi after all. Maybe Kofi was just like his parents, just like his brother. Maybe he shouldn't have ever trusted him. It was easier, with these thoughts, to fight the other man.

Somehow, they ended up outside the ring and both Punk and Kofi had forgotten what they were supposed to be doing in the face of a shattered friendship. It wasn't until the bell rang and the announcer called for a double count out that they realized what had happened. Punk stood, stunned, letting go of Kofi, which turned out to be a mistake. A staggering kick to his head dropped him to his knees, and Kofi followed it with another before he stalked away from ringside.

Punk remained where he was, on his hands and knees for a minute, his ears ringing. Jericho started celebrating in the ring holding up one of the titles. Kofi shook his head and looked at Punk.

Punk staggered to his feet, catching the disgusted expression on Kofi's face before he disappeared backstage. Hearing footsteps, Punk turned his head to see Jericho coming towards him with his tag title in hand.

Punk couldn't fight the hysterical urge to laugh and he very nearly fell over again with the force of the humorless laughter. Here he was, after his best friend had turned his back on him and there was his worst enemy, holding out one of the tag titles with a smile on his face. It was all so utterly fucking ridiculous.

"You gonna take this? My hand's starting to cramp."

Punk reached forward and grabbed the sides of Jericho's neck roughly, ignoring the raised eyebrow he got in return and the way that Jericho was looking at him as if he'd gone nuts.

"If this is all it took to drive you off the deep end, I should have switched tactics when we were fighting."

Punk was still laughing but he met Jericho's eyes. "I fucking hate you so much."

"Feelings Mutual," Jericho replied. "Can you get your hands off my neck, or am I gonna have to do it for you?"

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist, Jericho. I had no idea you were so sensitive." He took a great deal of pleasure in the scowl Jericho shot him but he held up his hands in mock surrender, and took the offered title.

Jericho began walking up the ramp, and eventually, Punk followed him to the backstage area. Jericho turned abruptly, blocking Punk's way. He'd stopped laughing by this point, what had happened between him and Kofi settling in.

"What now?" He asked with a sigh. He really, really just wanted to get back to his locker room.

"Look, neither of us wanted this, but here we are, stuck as partners. Let's make a deal to get along when we're defending the belts or are in the ring, okay?"

"Sure thing Jericho." Punk patted him on the shoulder on the way past. He really, really just didn't care at that moment.

He just wanted to get out of there. He had a few days before the house shows would start up again and was looking forward to the rare days off, if only because he wouldn't have to be around Jericho for a while. When he made it into the locker room, however, he stopped short.

His locker was standing open and his bag was unzipped, spilling clothes out and onto the floor.

He walked slowly over to his bag, and began to pick up the spilled content, cursing as he did. He knew that Kofi was pissed at him, but he couldn't imagine he'd break into his locker.

Of course, it could have been someone else. It wasn't a completely impossible notion that someone would break into the lockers to steal something. But, his phone and wallet were still in the side pocket of his bag. Except...he scowled darkly. His car keys were missing. Why the hell would someone only steal that? It was just a rental, after all.

Deciding to forgo a shower until he could make it back to his hotel room, he quickly pulled on some shorts and a tee-shirt before zipping up his bag with a sigh. He figured whoever stole it would probably make money off the parts, and there was nothing he could do about it. Still, it didn't make sense. Why leave his phone and wallet if they were just looking to steal something?

He pulled his bag onto his shoulder and walked out. He had no idea how he was going to manage to get back to his hotel room, and he certainly didn't want to have to call a cab. He pulled out his phone anyway. He'd have to report it, of course. He had made it out to the parking lot and was about to call the cops when he stopped short for the second time that day. The rental was there, sitting in the same spot. Punk approached it with a frown. Maybe he'd lost the keys? But that didn't explain why the contents of his bag were spilled all over the floor, or the fact that his locker was wide open when he remembered closing it before his match.

The car wasn't locked, he found but when he opened it, shock settled in on him as well as disgust when he stared at what was staining the steering wheel. Sitting on the driver's seat was a picture and a folded piece of paper. Upon closer inspection, he found that the picture was of him and his fingers trembled when he picked both items up. Punk was startled when he was shoulder checked and a voice sounded right beside his ear.

"Stopped showering too now, Punk?"

He turned to face Jericho, with a scowl. "Fuck off."

He was still shaking, and the anger that had sparked in him had started to grow. "What's this?" Before he could stop it, Chris had snatched the picture from Punk's hands. "What the hell is this?" He asked again and, to Punk's surprise, there was a swell of rage in Chris' tone.

"A picture, you idiot." Punk replied, taking the picture back. He stared down at it a moment, his mind running through the possibilities. Someone had taken a picture of him while he'd been in the shower...

"I see that." Chris glanced towards the car and the rage in his eyes heightened at the evidence that someone had been doing something unseemly in there. Punk hardly noticed as he unfolded the paper. It was a love note, not signed.

"Who did this?" Chris snapped.

"What are you? My knight in..." he looked Chris over. "Sparkling jacket now?"

"Shut up," Chris practically snarled at him. He pointed towards the inside of the car. "This is not a joke, you moron."

"No one said it was." Punk was a little taken aback by Chris' reaction and still a little shell shocked about the picture and the state of his car.

"Good." Chris paused and then grabbed Punk's arm, started pulling him away from the car.

"Where are you taking me?" Punk asked, trying to keep up with Jericho.

"First, I'm giving you a ride back to the hotel. Then, tomorrow, you're going to call Vince and tell him about this. You're taking this seriously, Punk." Chris was still angry but there was something else there in his tone…

"Why do you care? We hate each other."

Chris turned to him abruptly, a furious glare on his face and he stepped into Punk's personal space. "These," he started, snatching the picture and the note, "are signs of a stalker. You want to let this go until whoever this is hurts you or..."

"Even If I report this, unless there's a threat to my life, the cops won't do anything."

"I know that," Chris snapped. "But there's a likely chance whoever did this works here. So, Vince will be able to do something once we figure out who left this."

"That's the problem; we don't know who left this."

"They'll show eventually. They always do. Whoever this is wants you to know, I'm betting because they want you." Chris grabbed him again and they started off.

Xxxx

John Cena was fuming. He came out from behind the pillar with his fists clenched and a fierce scowl of rage on his face. Punk and Jericho had just driven off...together. Punk was his and his alone. Who the hell did Chris Jericho think he was to drive off with his lover? And Punk...John's fingernails dug into his palms. It was blatant disrespect, that's what it was.

He needed to show both of them that Punk was his and his alone… He needed to punish Punk for going with Jericho, and Jericho for taking his lover from him. After all he did for Punk, taking the picture, writing the letter… and this is all he gets?


End file.
